Molly adjusted the sequined party hat perched precariously atop her head. It tickled her nose. "Are you sure about this, Bill?" Bill, cradling a meticulously crafted balloon animal poodle, shrugged. He popped the poodle's head with a practiced flick of his thumb. "Relax, Molls. It's child’s play. In and out, grab the loot." He gestured at the brightly wrapped presents piled high under a plastic palm tree. "Think of them as oversized, very colorful loot bags. Easy pickings." Molly chewed on a rogue curl of red yarn protruding from her oversized bowtie. "But the kids! What about the birthday boy?" Bill snorted. "He won’t even know we were there. He’ll be too busy drowning in a sugar-fueled frenzy of bounce house ecstasy. Besides," he added with a wink, "think of the look on his little face when he realizes Santa's elves went rogue this year.” Molly sighed, adjusting the hat again. She had a bad feeling about this. The sugary air hung thick in the room, buzzing with the shrieks of excited children. One particularly enthusiastic toddler bump-tackled Bill's leg. Bill flinched. This was going to be a long night.